Student Teaching
by Backroads
Summary: Do Hogwarts professors just get to be professors? Or are they forced to suffer first?
1. First Day Stress

_Author's Note: This fic is actually based on certain truths and experiences that my friends and I have and will discover during our student teaching semester--only with a wizarding world twist. But most of these things will probably be based on actual events. Such as this opening chapter._

_I'm planning on focusing on Tonks, Hermione, and McGonagall, though I'm almost positive others characters shall share their experiences. I have no idea if the wizarding world and Hogwarts actually does a student teaching program, but what the heck._

_This takes places roughly a couple years or so after the series ends, though I really won't be dwelling on that sort of material— I'm just letting you know the time frame._

_Also, I myself am student teaching in a 1st grade classroom, so this age level will not be from experience._

**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

What in the world possessed me to do this? Tonks stared up at the school she figured she knew well enough that was now shape-shifting before her eyes into the mouth of a beast. And all on such a sunny day, too. Career change? Now? When she was so happy being an Auror?

Students were running all over the grounds, screaming and hitting each other with sticks and Tonks no longer knew what kids did these days. She really didn't remember hitting too many other kids with sticks. Maybe once or twice. But it had been a sick thing! A sick and twisted and completely childish thing to do.

They were going to eat her alive, weren't they?

Well, she was still an Auror. All she was doing was focusing her talents into another channel. She had faced Death Eaters and survived countless attacks of evil and darkness.

She was going to pass out any second. Who was the fool that had gone on and on about the wonder and pride and joy of molding young minds to prepare them for the future disasters they would inevitably face if they ever got themselves involved in an extremely stupid situation?

Hermione Granger. That girl. That girl was going down. That girl was stuck in the exact same position.

Tonks straightened up, readjusted her bag, and marched through the doors.

And that was when she realized that she had no idea of where she was supposed to go. She stood there in the hall, a solid figure with bright pink hair and a sack full of books while children late for their own classes ran about.

Children. They were so small. They were so evil.

She was going to scream any moment. Where was she supposed to go? Where was she supposed to go? This Department of Education was getting so unorganized! All they did was send her off to a school and tell her a class and a professor that she would be working with... and that was supposed to help her?

_Calm down_, Tonks, she told herself silently. You can remember what they told you. In fact, if you were smart, you would have written it down. Wait! They wrote it down for you!

She smiled. Good. This wasn't so bad. All she had to do was find that parchment! She slid off her bag and began raking through it. Hmm. Points might be docked for lack of organization. She reached her hand down to the bottom and finally managed to hear the crunch of parchment. She pulled out the wrinkled and torn letter.

_Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Severus Snape._

What class was that supposed to be and who was this professor!

The students had vanished. She fought the urge to scream.

No! She took a deep breath. She was being ridiculous. Pathetically dramatic. She knew very well what Defense Against the Dark Arts was and she knew very well who Professor Snape was. In fact, she knew the man on a first name basis.

_Now, Tonks, you are going to calm yourself down and go happily to your class to check in. You will not be a screaming woman with books and a cheap name tag._

Oye. The name tag. She glanced down at the bronze-colored thing pinned to her robes. _Mrs. Lupin, Student Teacher_. On the right side was a simple imitation of the Hogwarts crest. It was absolutely hideous. And apparently student teachers didn't get to have the honor of "Professor" yet. Oh, well. No sense in complaining about that.

She felt the scream coming again. And for no reason she could discover, this time.

It had seemed such a nice thing to do. Now that the war was over, there really wasn't much use for Aurors. So why not go into teaching and train the next generation? Hardy-har-har.

She was late. She had to get to that class. And what would she do there? Sit in the back for a few weeks while Severus hogged all the teaching opportunities.

And the students would be watching her...

This so wasn't worth it.

But she had agreed.

But why in the world was she doing this?

She took a deep breath and her first step forward.

"I'm late!"

Tonks finally got her opportunity to scream as a form rushed past her. Hermione Granger.

"I can't believe I'm late for the first day of student teaching!" the now-distant form of Hermione shrieked.

The portraits on the walls were staring.

Oddly enough, the appearance of Hermione was rather calming. With her first smile of the day, Tonks reached down and picked up a cheap bronze-colored name tag. _Miss Granger, Student Teacher. _

She picked up the speed. "Hermione! They'll kill you if you don't have your name tag!"

Somewhere in the distance, Hermione screamed again.


	2. Placements

"I can't believe I'm late!" Hermione Granger had no idea whether that statement had been kept safely in her thoughts or shouted for the entire school to hear. She had never been fond of tardiness, especially in herself, and somehow being stuck in that odd position between a teacher and a student was not improving her opinion of the phenomenon.

A few students, apparently also tardy, stared at her. She blushed and forced her bag onto her back to increase mad dashing velocity. Okay, so she had announced she was late aloud. That was okay. What was not okay was that she had just stabbed herself five times with the pin she had dropped. Thank-you, Tonks. Though she might have been less late had she forgone the stupid thing. And she couldn't get it on! All the magic in the world and she couldn't put on a pin while running. What would happen if she didn't have the pin? What would happen?

What would have happened if she hadn't stayed up till three o'clock in the morning writing lesson plans that the entire Department of Education insisted she would not need for another month? Then she might not have overslept and she wouldn't be doing this right now.

She crashed into a kid. Fortunately, he was the only one that spilled.

Stupid little road block. She hopped over his spilt books and quills and made the last sprint to Professor Vector's classroom.

She had made it! And only five minutes late! She grabbed the door handle, threw it open, and screamed into the ears of twenty fourth years— "I'm here!"

Forty eyes stared at her.

"Who are you?" one dared ask.

Hermione took a deep breath and made her hand remove itself from the doorknob. That was a good question. It was established that a good student teacher introduce herself to the students with whom she would be working. Just because she was late didn't mean she had to forgo the niceties. "I'm Miss Granger, the student teacher."

"Isn't 'student teacher' a little redundant?" another student asked, an obnoxious-looking redhead with sparkly pink ribbons in her hair. "I mean, isn't that what teacher do? Teach students?"

That one caught her off-guard. It was a terrible title. "No, I'm a student of the education system."

Sparkly Pink was not impressed, and her friend laughed into a textbook. "As am I. I am a student, and this school represents the education system."

Logic. Oh, how she suddenly hated logic. Hermione finally closed the door behind her. "I don't think you really understand..."

"Oh, we understand, all right," said a boy at least two heads taller than she was. "We understand that we're such trouble-makers they had to send in another teacher."

The ripple of mischief resonated into Hermione's brain. Especially after the boy high-fived three other students.

Where was Professor Vector?

Knees ready to knock cliches, Hermione turned to the front desk. Yes, Professor Vector was there. Laughing along with her students.

Hermione gulped and straightened her robes. New ones, a dark grey color she hoped made her appear more professional. Now she just felt like a giant dust bunny. "I'm reporting, Professor Vector."

Professor Vector raised a hand, and the class went silent.

Hermione instantly admired the mighty power of classroom management. May she one day reach that point. Somehow, she knew that if she dared try raise a hand to silence a class, backlash would occur.

"Now, students, this is Hermione Granger," Professor Vector said in a completely sing-song voice better suited to seven-year olds. "She graduated two years ago and is now training to become a professor here at Hogwarts."

"Oh..." The bratty girls finally seemed to understand.

"And there's been a change of plans for her. Miss Granger, you're not helping in my class just yet."

The world spun. She was even more late for someone else's class? "What?"

Professor Vector just smiled. "There's been a change. The Headmistress insists."

"Insists what?" Hermione clutched her bag closer, as if her precious books would somehow save her from certain uncertain doom. They could not change her placement. They could not.

"As you well know, Hermione, you're planning to prepare yourself to teach any old subject possible."

She nodded. That was true. And one day she rather hoped she would be Headmistress herself. "Yes, but I thought I was starting with you."

Professor Vector sighed sadly. "That's what I thought, but Professor McGonagall changed things this morning. She prefers you start with another teacher. Two, actually, you'll be splitting the day between them. Later on in the semester you'll join me for a time. But the experience will be good for you."

Hermione nodded again. Yes, that all made sense. "Okay. Good. Then which professor will I be starting with?"

Professor Vector gasped in lack of remembrance, then skipped back to the desk to sort through parchment. "Here it is!" She shoved a piece into Hermione's hands.

She almost choked. She would be spending three whole class periods with Professor Trelawney.

She really didn't remember leaving the classroom, the snicker of the students behind her, or the journey to the attic where Professor Trelawney thought it was so wonderful to hold class. Somehow the hurricane-sized cloud of perfumes and incense didn't bother her.

No way. She had never wanted to teach Divination. She wanted nothing to do with Divination. She forced open the door.

"See, my dears? I knew Miss Granger would be late! I saw it days ago."

Did Trelawney even know three days ago she would be working with a student teacher? Hermione forced a smile. "I'm very sorry I'm late. I didn't know about the placement change."

Trelawney smiled at something past Hermione and waved the apology away. "Oh, dear, you're fine. You're fine. At least you are here, to begin your training in the techniques necessary to encourage young minds to open themselves up to the vibrations of the unseen."

Second years laughed, and this time Hermione's smile was real. They really were cute little things. "Professor Trelawney, what would you like me to do?"

"Sit in the back, I don't care. This is my class and I'm afraid that there is really nothing you can do here."

But wasn't she supposed to eventually teach a lesson? "But--"

"You are distracting me, Miss Granger. Take a seat."

For crying out loud... she'd bother the woman later. She fell back into a poofy chair at the back of the room, letting her bag with her carefully prepared arithmancy lesson plans slide to the floor next to her. Now she had to sit her for weeks on end and listen to the old bat prattle on about stuff she made up while drinking.

Two little girls left their seats and plopped down on either side of her. Pre-teens. Well, they were cute. They looked up at her with big bright eyes.

"My name is Coral Monk," said one.

"And I'm Lucy Harper," said the other. "We're best friends and we're both in Gryffindor."

Coral nodded excitedly. "We've heard about you from some of the older girls."

"Oh?" So she was famous two years after graduation. "What did they say?"

"They said you were a geek and that you made out with Victor Krum," said Coral.

Lucy giggled. "They said you never hung out with the other girls, that you were anti-social or something."

"Did you really kiss a zucchini in the common room?" Coral looked desperate for an answer.

Hermione sighed. "Listen to Professor Trelawney. Now."


	3. Of Microwaves

_Probably one of the more silly vignettes I'll offer, but the truth is that I did experience a forty-five minute discussion on the same topic. And it got pretty heated._

_**OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**_

"You're going to love the faculty meeting, Mrs. Lupin," Severus Snape said dryly. He led the way through the twisting halls of Hogwarts, Tonks in tow. "It's a most riveting portion of the teaching experience and I highly recommend you attend."

Aren't I supposed to attend? Tonks thought as she tried her best to keep up with Snape. Her third day, and she was already expected to attend a faculty meeting. With one of her husband's old enemies hovering over her. Well, she was already working with the man. Awkward. "And you enjoy these?"

"We don't get any say in whether we are allowed to enjoy them or not," Snape replied in a voice that at least allowed some pent-up passion into the continuing monotone. "You just go and you love them."

That didn't make any sense. "How can you love them and not enjoy them?"

Severus gave one of his rare, grim smiles as he stopped at a classroom. "No one knows for sure."

"What does it mean to love attending faculty meetings?"

"I don't know, and I wish you would stop asking me such silly and time-wasting questions, for I fail to see just how any possible answers would affect your student teaching experience."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "So far I haven't learned much of anything except that you yell just as much as I remember and that half of the first-years are afraid of everything." Three had cried that very morning, practically demanding that she stand up and take charge of the class, no cares at all to Professor Snape as he screamed at that them. Then again, she had no idea what she would do in that place. Classroom management. Oh, the mysteries of classroom management.

"Mrs. Lupin, I suggest you learn soon that first-years are not human. They are baby humans. It is a completely different category." He stepped inside the classroom, holding the door open for her, a minor gesture of chivalry she snidely took advantage of. He had a point about the first years.

"Do you even like students, Severus?" she asked.

He frowned thoughtfully. "If I didn't like children, why am I a teacher?"

"Because despite the fact that you killed Albus Dumbledore and spent half a year in hiding from the hatred of everyone remotely connected to Hogwarts, you actually dared return to ask for your job back and actually managed to get it--so I doubt anyone else would hire you," she retorted. Amazing how a few years could allow her to say things so calmly.

Severus flinched visibly. "I thought I already explained all of that. It was--"

"Arranged," she finished for him. "I know. Now explain to me why we are meeting in this classroom." Tonks found herself standing in a classroom she had never seen before.

"The alchemy room," Severus explained. "We all ignore it. Unless we use it for a faculty meeting. And yes, before you ask me the obvious, we are supposed to sit in the students' desks."

Tonks sighed. Remus was going to love hearing about this. Already most of the staff was seated, chatting mildly and looking around while McGonagall, standing proudly in the front, shuffled parchment. She pulled up a seat next to Hermione, who had her head down on the desk and was muttering something about hating Divination and name tags. Severus sat down behind her and said something about hating his life.

Well, Tonks was going to be positive about this. Faculty meetings were a way for teachers to bond and connect, to share ideas and concerns, to grow and learn from each other, to connect and build curriculum! This was the moment of inspiration she needed to continue this semester!

McGonagall cleared her throat as the rest of the teachers sidled in. "Late again. Not good. Our first topic of discussion is..." She adjusted her glasses and coughed with importance.

"She's become so snooty since she became headmistress," Professor Vector muttered.

"... a microwave for the teachers' lounge."

Hermione sat up and stared at McGonagall in disbelief.

Tonks laughed, then realized that no one else was joining her. In truth, they all had sudden interest.

At least Severus sighed. "I hate to point out the obvious, but don't we already have one?"

Several other teachers nodded in agreement.

"Albeit that one doesn't nearly suit the mindless war every lunch break," he continued with a snarl.

More nods, shakes of heads, and whispers.

Tonks and Hermione exchanged horrified expressions.

"We need a second one," said Firenze. "It would make life so much easier."

"On what?" Hermione whispered.

Tonks nodded. "They can't possibly work here. Can they?"

"No! Nothing like that can work on Hogwarts ground?"

"As a reminder, we did petition for one approximately seven months and eighteen days ago," said Professor Binns. "But the motion was shot down."

Tonks buried her head in her arms, giggling. This could not be happening.

Then came the sound of Hermione's voice. "Um, excuse me, but does the microwave in there now even work?"

Silence.

"That's entirely besides the point," said Professor Sinistra after several long moments.

"It works if you put the food in and cast a heating charm," Professor Flitwick commented.

More whispers. Oh, but the discussion was getting really heated now.

"But I would really like to discuss a curriculum map." Hermione, again. Tonks shot a glance at her from under her arms. Maybe she should be more adamant about a decent meeting. Well, get this out of the way and there might be something important.

"Of course," McGonagall replied. "We need to set an example for the student teachers."

Good.

"All in favor of the second microwave, please raise your hands."

Tonks almost choked on another laugh.

Behind her, Severus sighed and began drumming his fingers on the desk.

It was a draw.

"We'll discuss the microwave at the next meeting," McGonagall said shortly. Thank goodness she was irritated as well. "I would next like to review our grade policies. Professor Flitwick, do you have the reports on that?"

Flitwick stood up. "I really think we should finish the microwave discussion."

This time, Hermione burst out laughing as well. The entire faculty turned to stare at the new student teachers.

But the microwaves wouldn't work.

Remus was never going to believe this.


	4. Positives

Hermione wanted to turn her wand on herself and mutter the horrible spell of the Killing Curse. There had to be more to teaching than this. What had happened to all her carefully prepared lesson plans? What had happened?

She sat there in the back of Professor Binns' room--her other cooperating professor. It was hell on earth, trapped between two polar opposites of Binns and Trewlawney. She had her own little dust-covered desk, and it was beyond tempting to smash her brains against it while Binns droned on and on about... oh, heck, she didn't even know. Five minutes till the class ended. Five minutes till the class ended. Almost four minutes until the class ended.

It would be so much easier if she would just be allowed to do something! But neither Trelawney nor Binns was interested in _that_. Oh, no. She had to observe for forever and a day, and she did not want to!

It was a class of Slytherin first-years. Little midgets. Ron had been right about the bunch. All innocent and wide-eyed and darling... she wanted to smack them all.

And that Savannah Hale was staring back at her again. She was one of the shorted first-years Hermione had ever seen. Straight brown hair cropped around her shoulders, and, of all things, a green bow tied at her forehead.

Hermione forced a smile. Chances are the girl was as bored as she was.

Savannah waved, and her Slytherin buddies giggled.

Three minutes till class ended. Three minutes till class ended. Maybe she could get Binns to let her teach _some_ of the next class! Maybe tutor a few of them! Maybe save them from this misery.

She didn't remember Binns being this incredibly dull.

But she was fidgeting to get up there and teach. She was ready. At least, she felt ready. Bombing in front of a class of teenagers couldn't be too horrible, could it?

Student teaching wasn't at all what she had expected it to be. It was supposed to be her challenge, her chance to prove herself as a magical educator!

She was never going to be allowed to do anything! She just listened to Binns and acted as Trelawney's pathetic assistant.

Now Savannah was waving at her.

Something about elf laws. Once this would have fascinated her. Once upon a time.

If only she could go back and time and slaughter every single elf and every single goblin and ever other single historical character that Binns failed to find at all fascinating... maybe then this class might be interesting. And then, maybe, Binns would let her teach it.

Where was a time-turner when she needed one?

She had to save these poor defenseless children!

Hermione's head slammed against the table. Oh, who was she kidding?

The class finally ended.

Hermione remained where she was as the Slythering children stomped past giggling and laughing until she thought she'd have a migraine. Ick.

"Miss Granger?" a small voice asked.

Hermione gave a muffled response and lifted her eyes.

There was Savannah Hale, smiling shyly. "Miss Granger?"

"Hi, Savannah. Enjoy class?"

Savannah shook her head. "But Miss Granger..."

"Yes?"

"I would like it much better if you taught us. You're the best student teacher ever."

Hermione laughed and lifted her head completely. "Well, thank-you!"

The girl beamed.

_Best student teacher_, she thought. And she hadn't even done anything yet.


	5. Minerva

It was not easy being Headmistress. That was a falsity Minerva McGonagall wanted nothing more than to correct. Admittedly, she had once happily believed it herself. What had she seen Albus Dumbledore do? Sit happily in his office, singing to himself, eating candy? Oh, occasionally he had to reprimand a student and attend a boring meeting at the Ministry, but that was it.

Oh, how wrong she had been! Why hadn't he warned her?

That day, Minerva had not even managed to eat breakfast. She had no idea where she had put her bowl of candy, and she had already to talk to two sixth-year girls who had been found magically setting each other's hair on fire in the girls' bathroom. Something over a boy. Always was.

One of her notes reminded her to follow up on this case. She could still smell the horrible scent of burning hair. One of her eyebrows had been singed off.

And then, in an hour, she had to go observe Nymphadora Lupin's lesson. Student teachers. Yuck. She could already see the entire ordeal in her mind.

Mrs. Lupin would be the very picture of nerves. Of course, prior to this she would be utterly confident in the mistaken belief that all her Auror experience had over-qualified her to teach Defense Against the Dart Arts. But the moment she stood in front of that classroom, all would go to waste. Approximately fifteen minutes into the lesson, she would scream, flip over a few desks, and run crying from the classroom.

Something inside Minerva stung. An old memory of the exact same thing.

She had been barely twenty-two at the time. Hogwarts. The very same classroom Transfiguration was still taught in. She had flounced into that classroom that morning, all ready for her lesson.

Headmaster Dippet had told her it was okay if it didn't go as planned.

But she hadn't listened.

It was supposed to have been simple. Third-years. There was nothing too terribly complex about third-year transfiguration. And it was a basic lesson turning an inanimate object into a living creature. Very, very simple to a witch that had earned impressive N.E.W.T.s in Transfiguration and had received further training under the most talented witches and wizards. So why wouldn't a third-year student be able to turn a jar into an armadillo?

And the lesson had gone well, besides. She had written the objective on the board in her most beautiful and easily-read writing. She had announced it verbally, besides. She had provided the necessary inspiring anticipatory set. She had given a demonstration.

And somehow that boy had wound up with the jar stuck on his fist. Another child was somehow glued to the ceiling.

She had screamed, flipped over three desks, and ran from the room.

Minerva sighed. She really didn't want to watch someone else do the exact same thing. But it was a duty of the Headmistress.

No, it was not an easy job.


	6. Unicorns

Tonks stared at the class. They stared back at her. Had there been a clock in the room, she was sure its ticking would have drowned out all other noise. Except there wasn't any other noise. That was good. Wasn't it? Noise was usually a bad thing.

But, sometimes, with 5th years. And not just any 5th years.

These were Hufflepuff 5th years. In a Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Hufflepuffs and Defense Against the Darks Arts just didn't mix.

Oh, the Hufflepuffs _pretended_ to be all safe!They pretended to be all good and wonderful and honest and hardworking and all that other crap that so enchantingly represented the House of Hufflepuff, but it was all lies! Because when it came right down to it, Hufflepuff 5th years were hormone-plagued teenagers.

And hormone-plagued teenagers always were plotting!

Tonks cleared her throat and shuffled her piece of parchment. Her lesson plan, written just this morning after remembering that McGonagall was going to want to see an official and professional lesson plan. Curse these lesson plans! Curse them! They took all the fun out of teaching!

But, supposedly, the lesson plan kept you on track! If you fell off your lesson, you turned to your plan and everything was all wonderful and hunky-dory once more.

But the students were still staring at her. Snape was at his desk, trying not to fall asleep, and McGonagall was at a table in the back, glasses lowered, quill ready, frown in place.

Observations were so horrible! Would McGonagall critique as much as Snape did?

Tonks cleared her throat. Again. The non-existent clock was still ticking.

Maybe she had best get the lesson started.

"Today, class, we are going to learn some basic spells to keep away unicorns." Oh, no! Had that been her voice? Had that squeaky little inaudible rush of words been her voice?

She never whispered! She had always been the loud one!

And why was everyone laughing? They weren't laughing at her voice, were they?

And Snape was even laughing! Even McGongall was smiling.

Tonks fought the urge to run from the room. Had her voice been that bad?

"Unicorns," that irritating Brian Stauffer kid said from the front row.

She stared down at her lesson plan. It didn't say unicorns, it said erumpents. Her face grew warm.

Classroom management, classroom management, how did that work here?

The students were still laughing uncontrollably.

"I made a mistake, sorry," she began. But no one was listening.

Classroom management. She took a deep breath. "Oh, be quiet!"

And, amazingly enough, they all did.

She took another deep breath. This wasn't so hard. Now... she was going for "discovery" approach here. "Take out your wands, and imagine yourself facing an erumpent."

"In Africa?" someone asked.

Was that were erumpents lived? "Sure! Africa sounds good!"

McGonagall frowned and scrawled something on her notes.

Tonks grimaced. That couldn't be good. "What I mean is..." She screamed as a blast from wand rocketed past her.

The entire room was filled with it. Spells firing each and every way. Snape was wide awake, already holding two boys by their collars.

"Put your wands down!" Tonks screamed.

No one really seemed to grasp that concept of erumpents that day.

The students filed out as the hour ended, and Tonks slunk down into a chair next to McGonagall.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" McGonagall asked matter-of-factly.

Tonks nodded and buried her face in her arms. "The Discovery approach sucks."

She expected a tactless torrent of words from McGonagall, but instead there was silence.

And then, finally, a hand on her arm. "I know. Trust me, I know. It takes years of practice."


	7. Happy Halloween!

_The true story behind this is only the pathetic matter of some paper pumpkins dreamed up by the Student Council... no vegetables were harmed in reality. Ours is decorate with construction paper worms, bugs, and leaves, and had better win next week's contest. It was just a pain to make. _

_As for Hermione's behavior in this chapter... it is something I really see her doing, if the opportunity and the right mood swing arose. Tell me what you think. I tried to keep her thoughts in order with it._

* * *

Whoever the idiot who thought it would be clever to have each class decorate a pumpkin in some sick display of Halloween festivity was seriously disturbed. It was tacky, superfluous, completely disregarded the moronic but age-old House rivalry, and, to put it plainly, just plain dumb. No students wanted to participate, and those who did wanted to go for full-out perversion. And at seven or eight pumpkins for each student for every single class... it was sickening!

Hermione decided that she would find a way to destroy this contest. Maybe. If she ever had time to breathe. Why had she never been told that student teachers never had time to breathe? Why had everyone insisted on leaving that little detail out? Why was there so much planning involved?

Or as it was Tonks had suggested and merely a conspiracy against new teachers, a type of hazing?

And now Professor Trelawney had forseen in her stupid crystal that Miss Granger would lead the first-year Gryffindors into a revolutionary pumpkin destined to win the contest!

Why were first-years taking Divination anyway? When had the Ministry for Education made that brilliant move?

Right now, she had fourteen hyper students and a pumpkin. The worst pumpkin she had seen all day. If it had been a sentient creature, it might have just muttered "rosebud" and crumpled away into rotten pumpkin pie.

"It's ugly," one boy commented. His friend was already poking it with a stick. The pumpkin's side actually indented itself with an all-too-audible squelch.

"Ew!" the girls screamed.

Hermione sighed. Professor Trelawney was burning way too much incense, and everyone was running around screaming. Or had been, before the pumpkin had been brought in. "How are we going to decorate it?"

"But it's gross!"

Another sigh. "I can see that. But Professor Trelawney wants us to decorate it."

Unfortunately, eleven-year olds were far too smart for her. Or was it fortunately? At least four students grinned at her. "But Professor Trelawney isn't here! You're the teacher now, Miss Granger."

A worm crawled from the pumpkin. Another squelch.

But during her own years at Hogwarts, she had always been expected to be such a good student... ah, so the defense rushed before even the thought.

It wasn't like the students weren't all thinking the same thing. She looked at the class, they looked back at her.

Within a minute the were out of the tower, Hermione clutching the oozing pumpkin, laughing children at her feet, and standing over a balcony.

"Do it, Miss Granger!"

One just couldn't ignore the pleas of small children. But she had never done anything like this before.

What the heck? She was the teacher. She grinned and let the pumpkin drop.

At least it didn't hit anyone.


	8. Locked out

"This isn't funny at all, Mrs. Lupin."

Well, the students certainly thought it was worth a good laugh. A combined group of 7th years, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Just because they were in their final year did not mean they were mature.

Tonks just smiled. This lesson was going exceedingly well. This was one that Professor McGonagall needed to see. 32 students, wands pointed at the classroom door, all unified in one of the most useful and practical spells ever to be created. Was it so wrong that the students express joy in what they did? After all, they deserved it! By golly, they deserved it.

"Mrs. Lupin, I insist you open the door now!"

Was it so wrong to keep the cooperating professor out of the room? After all, Tonks had reached the point where a little solo-teaching without even the presence of Professor Snape was necessary.

The kids were laughing harder, now. Well, as long as it didn't interfer in the spell. Many spells could blast away a locked door, but keeping a door locked... that was tricky.

She was going to have to record this. They were all doing marvelously.

"I'm sorry, Severus!" she called. "I just can't seem to find the key!"

"I am insulted that I be locked out of my own classroom!"

"The students overpowered me!"

More giggling. She winked at the bunch of them. Special class treat was long overdue.

* * *

_Just something we joke about. The cooperating teachers are supposed to leave you all by yourself for a few weeks-- we always want to lock them out._


	9. Lockdown

Why, oh why, did all the bad stuff have to happen when the only man who would properly know how to deal with such bad things was dead? And, while Professor McGonagall was wishing, why did Death Eaters and other vigilantes of evil and darkness have to continue to exist? Why could not the world be perfect and have these cruel people done away with the moment Lord Voldemort was defeated?

Minerva really wasn't ready to deal with such things.

She received the call, by owl, from the Ministry for Magic. Four Death Eaters at large, reported near Hogwarts. Well, that would have only made for minor alarm and gossip had someone not just run into her office screaming that she had seen one.

That meant the one thing with which she had always hoped and prayed she would never have to deal.

Lockdown.

Oh, the professors were not going to be happy. They had their classes, and after an hour of whiney teenagers they were done. It was not fair to send each tired head of house to deal with their panicking students.

No, if someone were in the castle, she would certainly have to inform all teachers to lock their current classes inside the stupid classrooms.

If the wrong houses were trapped together in one room... this was not going to happen. One did not just give a few speeches on peace and harmony and expect centuries-old rivalry to end.

Minerva sent out the messages: Each teacher would have to lock his or or her door because they were checking if the things still responded to "alohamora".

Like any idiotic intruder couldn't figure out what that meant.

The worst case would be if the Death Eater were currently inside a classroom.

But she herself had taught, and she knew the real problem was the teenagers.

She could practically hear the student teachers screaming.

Hopefully they were smart enough to keep board games in the classrooms.

* * *

_Yup, I experienced my first lockdown today. I almost went crazy. First graders need recess. First graders are scary if they don't get a proper recess..._


	10. Finished!

Tonks and Hermione were not pleased. Minerva could see that much written in their faces. Oh, but she loved torturing people. She knew all the students came into Hogwarts suspecting as much only to later mature and say that it was only part of her high-expectations personality, that she really was a good soul.

Whomever thought people went into the teaching profession without any desire to torture students was an idiot. She smiled inwardly, though the serious frown was still out and strong. "Tell me again, ladies, why you think that I should hire you to teach at Hogwarts."

Hermione forced a smile and attempted to look as professional as possible. "Because Snape suddenly realized how much he hates teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. He is considering training as a mediwizard."

She had told Severus to say that.

Tonks, without warning, pulled out a hankie and blew her nose. "I miss the little kids."

Hermione rolled her eyes, then focused her gaze on Minerva.

Maybe she was taking far too much pleasure in this. She sighed, hoping that might frighten the girl. "Miss Grangers, Mrs. Lupin... you have locked students in classrooms, teachers in classrooms, blew up a can of tomato soup in our teachers' lounge microwave, been tied up by second-year Gryffindors, smashed pumpkins..." She really needed a list. Of what else could she accuse the student teachers? "Prevented your cooperating professors from doing their required observations by terribly cruel spells..."

"We need the classrooms to ourselves in order to gain confidence in our own teaching!" Hermione nearly shouted. She scooted to the edge of her seat, hands clasped at her knees.

Tonks was still sniffing about missing the students. Good grief. Students were pests, keep away from them. Though that wouldn't sound professional to say aloud.

But that crying was getting annoying. Minerva pursed her lips together and glared– "the Look", that infamous stare that every teacher must master. "Mrs. Lupin, wasn't their a rumor about you and your husband..."

"That was only a rumor!" Tonks screeched, tossing her hankie across the room. "It never happened! He was only bringing me my lunch!"

Hermione's head fell into her hands. "Professor McGonagall, you have seen and observed both of us. You know that I would make an excellent professor at Hogwarts."

"And Mrs. Lupin wouldn't?"

"I refuse to speak of Tonks' capabilities."

Tonks jumped to her feet. "Then why am I ever here? If my fellow sufferer won't even support me, I'm out of here! I'm going to go hang out with the kids again!"

"Mrs. Lupin, I'm going to put a spell on you to keep you away from those students," Minerva said. She had heard the students talking about how much fun Tonks had been. She would be a wonderful asset to the school.

Tonks sat back down in her chair. "Well, excuse me for being pregnant," she muttered.

"Congratulations," Hermione muttered.

Well, the moodiness might just wear off. Tonks could probably teach a semester.

But now Hermione was back to begging. "Please, Professor McGonagall... you have seen my resume! You know you want to hire me!"

"I'll consider it," she snapped. "Now please leave my office."

Hermione, trying to look her calmest, left, followed by a once-more crying Tonks.

Minerva couldn't help but laugh as soon as the door was closed. She probably would hire them.

Why did the student teachers have to be so desperate? She would have thought the past experience would have sent them running.

The End!


End file.
